


Defining a Home

by Entropic_Wren



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Evan Henare (oc), Gen, Slice of Life, Waimarie Anderson (oc), in some ways you can learn a lot about a person by their room, this is purely original character content sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 17:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropic_Wren/pseuds/Entropic_Wren
Summary: For a Jaeger Pilot, their sleeping quarters on base ends up being their home, especially when stationed in a totally different country. In the case of Evan Henare and Waimarie Anderson their humble sleeping quarters in Sydney might have been basic... but it was theirs.





	Defining a Home

The Kraken Roun pilot quarters were not too different from others of its kind, in Sydney or any other Shatterdome. There was a double bunk bed, with the stock standard covers that would be pulled up to cover nearly everything except two mops of dark hair. There was a display right beside Waimarie’s bottom bunk, one that she often wished she could throw one of her standard boots at each time it glared light into her eyes.

It wasn’t a pleasant way to wake up.

Especially when she spent some nights staying up late, trying to finish her studies while being a pilot.

There was a small ‘kitchen’, a title which glorified what was essentially a sink, hotplate, bar fridge, and a coffee maker. Before Evan and Waimarie moved in the coffee maker had been a kettle – it had remained there for a bit before Evan one day appeared with the newly brought coffee maker, making Waimarie look up from her book.

For the next four hours, she watched in fascination as the man stored the kettle into one cabinet before seemingly tinkering around with the coffee maker before setting it up. What he had been doing exactly, she had no clue – but it was proving more entertaining to study more than her copy of Pride and Prejudice (a second-hand copy she got for high school which by this point definitely looked like it had seen better days).

About three weeks later she’d find out what exactly it was Evan had done, as the moment the ‘heads-up’ display lit up it, in turn, activated the coffee maker, which had two mugs already set under it. At that moment she was more than glad for the tinkering habit Evan seemed to have.

If the kitchen was to Waimarie’s east (or left-hand side) when she was laying on her back in her bed, the bathroom would be to her south (or past her feet). If it wasn’t for the lights which turned on with movement (which had been a curse more than a blessing early on; due to hypersensitivity and activated with even the tiniest movement) she was pretty sure she’d miss the doorway and hit the opened door instead. So fortunately for her, the automatic lights meant that she could see better despite a near moment of being blinded by the display.

The part which probably would have been concerning to some of the other pilots, but hadn’t been for the two New Zealanders, was the limited amount of personal things on display. The Beckett Brothers’ had photos scattered all over, the Kadinovsky’s had a stereo as well as piles of CDs. The only personal things Waimarie really had was that copy of Pride and Prejudice and civilian clothes that grew too small three seasons ago. Evan was a bit better, armed with his father’s watch, an iPod Nano dating back to 2012, a slowly growing shoebox of photos, along with his laptop filled with all the movies and games he could lay his hands on and his own set of civilian clothes. Regardless of what it looked like – it was home to the pair.

Sometimes Evan would walk into Waimarie having papers strewn along the ground with notes written in all of them, curled up in bed reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’ yet again, or having raided his laptop since his password was a victim to the drift they shared.

Other times Waimarie would walk into Evan laying in his bunk listening to music on his iPod lost in thought, engaged with his laptop in a game/movie/report, or keeping tabs on any upgrades made to their Little Monster.

After Knifehead though, she saw more of that shoebox – she’d watch for a moment as the dark-haired male slowly shuffled through the photos. One for every drop they had done, containing the image of them and the pilots they worked with for those drops. Faces of makeshift family… one that was slowly slipping through their fingers like water. …Suddenly the lack of warmth in the room was noticeable, and it seemed to only grow worse when Kraken Roun was reposted in Anchorage, where barely anything from the shared duffel bag dedicated for personal items was pulled out.


End file.
